White as Snow
by thegenuineimitation
Summary: The dwarves had dressed him in his best, the white and silver concoction of cotton and silk that he'd worn to crash the ball held at the Malfoys' summer estate in honor of Draco's twenty-first birthday. Lips red as blood, hair black as ebony, skin as white as snow. He looked enchanting, ethereal, and not at all like himself. HP/DM. Challenge Response.


**White as Snow**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Snow White in any of it's incarnations.

**Author's Note:** This little thing was done for the Based on Fairytales Competition on HPCF and is dedicated to Mockingjaybird who pushed me into writing something rather than just dropping out. Cheers luv. Hope you enjoy.

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Draco's boot heels made loud angry clacks on the cobblestone floors announcing his presence and his mood long before he threw open the door at the end of the hall and burst into the room.

"What have you done!" he demanded of the woman who had draped herself artfully over a black velvet chaise in front of the wall to wall mirror.

"Done?" pouted the woman as she glanced over her shoulder, malice glinting in her hooded coal-colored eyes.

"With Harry," hissed Draco through gritted teeth, "I haven't heard from him in two days, Aunt, and I know that you're behind it somehow. Stop with the innocent act and tell me where he is!"

"By now?" cooed the witch, a cruel satisfied smile twisting her full lips, "By now he's buried six feet under the frozen ground, assuming the dwarves can dig that deep in this cold."

"No," Draco said in a near whisper as all the blood drained from his face and he shut his silver eyes tight as if that could block out the reality of the situation, if only he could open his eyes and have it all be a nightmare.

He wished he could accuse his aunt of lying but he was well aware that she never lied when the truth would be more painful.

"Oh dear," moued the witch slinking out of her chair to cup Draco's face in her ice cold hand, "It was for the best, my charming little prince. You couldn't have wedded that son of a mudblood anyway. He was a thief and a peasant for Merlin's sake. He was distracting you from what was really important."

"Don't touch me," said Draco trying to jerk out of her grasp.

She pricked claw-like nails into the back of his neck and Draco stilled knowing they were probably tipped with poison.

"He was pretty enough, the boy they call Snow White, good for a quick shag, but you got attached. Chased him halfway across the kingdom for Narcissa's bloody ring. Fancied yourself in wuv wiv the wittlist baby Potter," she mocked him in her whining baby voice.

"Shut up! Don't talk about him like that. You know nothing! You know nothing of Harry and you know nothing of love!" Draco raged.

With a snarl and a wave of her hand Draco was thrown violently away from her by some invisible force. He hit the wall and gasped as the breath was taken from him.

"You dare speak so to me! TO ME! I am the Queen! I rule here, not you!" she shrieked, "You dare to say I know nothing of love when the man I have loved and been loyal to all these long years is obsessed with your little whore!"

Draco coughed trying to stagger to his feet and fumbling at his belt for a weapon.

"Well no longer! This time will finally see Snow White dead!" she panted heavily, smoothing the snarl from her lips and glancing back at the mirror and smoothing one silky black ringlet back from her elegant aristocratic face, "I have given too much to be stopped by something as trivial as a pretty young face, and now that he is gone once again I am the fairest."

Draco hauled himself up buy the edge of her work table, the scrubbed blackwood thick and sturdy in his white knuckled grasp. The dagger slid from its sheath with a soft, comforting, metallic hiss. It was a gift from Harry who assured him it was enchanted by the dragon smiths to never dull and to cut through anything. Draco hadn't asked where his lover had stolen it from. Draco wished for his sword all the same cursing his own impatience.

He knew his aunt was dangerous, possibly the most dangerous woman in the world, and yet she was still his aunt which was why rage had overridden his common sense. Bloody hell, he'd known she'd done something to Harry, why hadn't he brought his sword?

"You think to harm me Draco, with that. How quaint. Take your best shot, by all means," laughed Bellatrix spreading her arms wide and giving him a clear target even as her voice raised in mocking laughter.

Draco's teeth ground together and he groped behind him on the worktable. His fingers curled around the neck of a hefty bottle and without pausing Draco hurled it at the witch as hard as he could and ducked to one side.

She wasn't expecting that.

The bottle shattered against a hastily erected magical shield and the pale blue liquid inside began to create a thin frosted layer over the dome of the shield. Bellatrix screamed in fury.

Not one to waste an opportunity Draco ran towards the mirror vaulting clumsily over the chaise to bury his dagger into the centre of the glass. It sank into the glass half-way to the hilt with a satisfying screech and a sharp crack.

Behind him the little frosted dome exploded in a shower of silver-blue sparks. His aunt advanced on him poisonous green energy crackling around her fingertips, her face a mask of murderous insane rage.

The mirror cracked again, a jagged line etching its way from the dagger to the far left corner.

His aunt gasped and her face fell, her hand straying to her abdomen, charcoal eyes wide and almost childlike as she stared past Draco at the mirror on the wall.

"What did you do? It's broken. Why did you break it?"

Soft cracks and diamond bright tinkles filled the air of the workshop as cracks spider-webbed along the mirror.

With a grim sort of satisfaction Draco pulled his knife out of the mirror and a large chunk fell shattering into a thousand shards on the cobblestone floor.

"I'm sorry Aunt," he said moving away from the mirror.

She didn't see him still staring horrified at the mirror as he pressed a dutifully apologetic kiss to her temple. There were crow's feet starting at the corners of her eyes and her hair was threading with gray her full mouth, still frozen in a horrified oh, thinning. Inside Draco knew she could feel her power shattering. Her gifts had been tied to the mirror for far too long. He'd no doubt she would kill herself over this.

He couldn't bring himself to feel anything more about it then a dull throbbing regret at the sadness this was going to cause his mother.

He sheathed his knife, absently noting that his hands were shaking, and moved over to the fireplace. He poked at the embers for a moment until a small fire was once again burning and tossed in a bit of the green powder from the pot on the mantel. The flames turned from dull orange to emerald green and he called out "The Burrow," in a firm voice as he stepped into the centre of the flames and was whisked away.

He'd only been in the dwarves' kitchen once before but as he swung the empty iron kettle aside and stepped out of the fireplace he knew he was in the right place. There was a low, scrubbed wood table set with eight places.

Something in his heart clenched and stuttered at the sight.

Not bothering with the soot on his normally immaculate uniform or in his fine silver-blond hair Draco strode across the room and out into the chill of winter.

The forest was still a damp looking green but it wouldn't be for much longer with the snow falling softly and steadily through the trees. Draco started jogging moving blindly through the trees in a sort of horrified trance. He knew where they'd take him.

He burst into the meadow, sleeping and edged with frost touched beauty it was like something out of a starlit dream. There on the far side of the clearing among the roots of the great whitewood willow were the seven red headed dwarves that had made Harry a part of their odd little family.

They ringed a gorgeous glass coffin that wove almost naturally into the roots of the tree and beneath the panes of, no doubt enchanted, glass looking perfectly lovely, as if he were only sleeping was Harry.

The dwarves had dressed him in his best, the white and silver concoction of cotton and silk that he'd worn to crash the ball held at the Malfoys' summer estate in honor of Draco's twenty-first birthday. Lips red as blood, hair black as ebony, skin as white as snow. He looked enchanting, ethereal, and not at all like himself.

Draco must have made some sort of noise because all of a sudden the dwarves turned to face him. Their freckled faces were pale with grief and there were tear tracks on their ruddy cheeks.

"You're too late," said the youngest, the girl, sadly.

"We tried everything my Lord," said one of the older ones, the one with horn-rimmed glasses, "You have to believe we tried."

"No," the denial slipped past his lips before he could stop it, without registering the decision to move he was kneeling at the side of the coffin with one shaking hand pressed against the glass, "No!"

His vision blurred alarmingly and he welcomed it, hoping it was something dire, it took a moment to realize that he was only crying hot silent tears that clogged his throat and burned his eyes as they dripped onto the glass with soft musical plinks.

"Open it," he ordered softly.

"I'm sorry," said another of the dwarves harshly, "He's gone."

"Please," begged Draco hoarsely, "Please, I need to…just please, let me say goodbye."

The dwarves exchanged looks wondering if it was a good idea. None of them entirely trusted the Prince, with good reason, his aunt had done many cruel and terrible things to the people of the kingdom and Draco may have been charming but that didn't mean he was always very nice. Still, there was no denying that the Prince truly loved their dear Snow White.

As one Percy, Bill, and Charlie moved the lid of the coffin.

Flakes of delicate snow fell and lingered on their namesake and with exquisite care Draco brushed one away from the curve of one cheekbone. Beneath the warmth of his hands Harry felt chill, as lifeless as a marble statue.

"Please," Draco whispered uncaring of his audience, or the embarrassing way his breath hitched in his throat making any sound louder than a whisper impossible, "Harry, you bloody bastard, just look what you've done to me. I'm here on my knees. I'm begging you. You've never followed the rules. You've always done the impossible…do it again. Just one more time. Please. For me. Don't be dead. Open your eyes."

Draco closed his eyes and leant down to press a brief final kiss to the frozen stone of his lover's lips.

It was as though all the world drew in a sudden breath and Draco could feel the magic pulse through him and then away.

Beneath his lips Harry stirred and Draco pulled away and watched, his heart skipping a full beat as Harry's bright green eyes opened and his gasped in a breath himself.

Draco could feel the smile stretching his mouth even as more tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

Blinking slowly Harry's gaze focused on his face and ever so slowly he reached up a hand and brushed it clumsily along the side of Draco's face.

"You," he said softly a soft smile curving those lips, "I knew it was you. You found me."

"Didn't I say that I always would?" asked Draco teasingly catching the fingers tracing over his features as if they could barely believe he was actually there and squeezing them tightly.

Harry used them as leverage to sit up.

"You did," he answered wonderingly, "But I didn't really believe you."

"Faithless little thief," laughed Draco, "You'd make a good Malfoy."

Harry arched a teasing eyebrow, his strength returning, he leaned forward and wound an arm around Draco's slender neck.

"Was that a proposal Prince Charming?" he teased breathily.

"And what if it was?"

Harry started searching Draco's silver eyes for any hint of teasing. There was none, and a pervading warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes. Harry didn't think he'd ever been this incandescently happy.

"Well, I dunno Dray, will you finally give me that ring?"

Silver eyes flickered with tolerant annoyance and Harry laughed even as he pulled Draco down by his neck for a languid searing kiss.

Maybe they wouldn't live happily ever after, but happily ever after would be boring anyway.

THE END

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**AN:** In case people were curious I based this off of Once Upon a Time's Snow White and Prince Charming. Please feel free to drop me a review on your way out and tell me what you think.


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